Luna Rewritten
by Jankard
Summary: Rewrote someone else's story. So shoot me pew pew . Has little to do with original books, no romance ect.
1. Luna

The Rewrite

_AN: While every alternate chapter will be my extended notes on whatever story I am currently rewriting, I must put this here. I own no characters, and everything comes from the wonderful author silverAngel1234, from her fic, "Luna" which does not appear to be canon, so despite my lack of knowledge about "Maximum Ride", I may be able to pull something decent out of my ass.  
Used **without** permission.  
... also, criticism that is not "OMG PLAGIARISM!" would be great._

_-x-_

Wings beating, a heavy sound, slow and rhythmical. It was loud, and ricocheted through the house, waking Luna from a heavy slumber. She was as tired as if the past few hours had not been spent in unconsciousness. She knew that sound, like some wretched heartbeat, growing fainter. That dream had stalked her sleep for years now, six years, every other night since she was nine, as Erik's painful departure replayed in her mind.  
It was like reliving the nightmare, every other night. Having the brutal reminder that her family was torn apart. She had Nick and Rico, but she missed Erik so much, it was like something small was lost to her - her mind would eventually harden to him, but until then, she was haunted. Luna swung her legs over the edge of her bed, standing up and feeling the brush of her wings on the ceiling. She was tall, and her wings had to be large to allow for flight. This meant that when folded, they would tower over her head like white giants, and it made things ... difficult. Being an avian hybrid was dreadfully impractical.  
The bedside alarm read three AM. She had woken up from her dream early, normally, five would be the time she awoke, too early to get up, but too late to go back to sleep, and instead Luna would doze fitfully, afraid to sleep again for fear of her dream rushing back on a tide of emotion, and having Rico or Nick catch her, crying, or in hysterics, trying to recall her lost brother.  
Sleep had banished itself from her mind now, the fog of unconsciousness swept away in a haze of jumbled memories. She was on the stairs now, headed for the kitchen for a drink of water and another look in the fridge. Her mind was lingering on Erik's last birthday with them, his tenth. He had received a heavy book of fairy tales, and he had pouted because he thought they were for girls.  
Waving a hand, a small sphere of silvery light floated above the sink. An automatic gesture, she felt sickened by the display of power. She snuffed the light almost instantly, so it was more a flash then a real, steady glow. Her entire family shared the light ability, although Erik's was greenish, and not the brilliant silver of Luna's.  
The faucet was running, Luna was intent on the memories, and it overflowed before she realised her glass was full. Turning the tap off, she bought the glass to her lips. They were full, but pale, like the rest of her. White as a ghost. Rico sometimes called her "The Spirit"; jocular, but sometimes stinging since Luna hated her difference to the dark brothers who somehow she did not match with.  
"Hell!" The sudden surge of emotion, an attack on already raw nerves, caused Luna to drop her glass. Water spread on the tiles of her kitchen, the rrickle spreading, a small river flowing towards their kitchen table where, once before, Luna had wanted water, and caught Erik sitting at that table, flashlight in hand, reading the unabridged story of Cinderella.  
Cleaning up the mess, Luna's hair fell down over her face, into the water. She had dropped a glass that night too, but Erik had cleaned it up, before carrying her up to her bedroom, and tucking that hair, as long as ever and dirty blonde, behind her ears as he whispered good night.  
Luna was ashamed to cry, even in the night with no spectators, and felt betrayed as tears traced a path down her cheeks.

_-x-_

"You look tired," Rico ladled scrambled eggs onto Luna's plate. Even leaning over, Rico's own wings, thirteen feet outstretched, seemed cramped in the high ceiling of the kitchen. "Did you sleep well?"  
She could not look Rico in the eye. They were piercing, an intent, dark gaze that only added to the impression of some hulking animal, feral and ready to strike. Luna bore a grudging respect for Rico, but had trouble with the absolute power he held over her as the oldest. "I'm fine, brother. I woke up early this morning, that's all. I wanted to wash my hair before school ... " ah, the dynamics of showering with thirteen foot wings. Embarassing, but it worked. Rather then pursue the subject, he leaned over and tossed the last onto Nick's plate. Nick was quiet, again. He was never much of a morning person ,and thanked his brother with a small nod.  
"OJ or water?" Rico moved again to the fridge, his head cocked towards us. Nick made no reply, but Luna asked for orange juice, not wanting to drink any more water. The glass was half full, since Nick had not been shopping yet, and they were running low. Luna noticed that there was a glass of juice in front of Nick, too, although he had not realised yet as he bolted his food before going to uni - Nick was perpetually worried he would be late for classes.  
Sipping her orange juice, Luna marvelled over her remaining brothers. Twins, they were nothing alike. Where Rico was an animal in appearance, dirty and playful, Nick had the feel of some solemn creature, maybe an alien priest, who had seen and felt more then his years could hold, even their most defining feature, their wings, were opposites. Rico's, brownish orange, and Nick, his blueish grey. Luna felt like the midground between them, the white girl, the absence.

She was made to take the bus to school, even though it was difficult to fit herself into one seat with wings. The other kids jostled, and one spilled water - thank god it was only water! Even so, the light yellow of her top turned semitransparent, showing off the skin of her flank, and part of her bra. Against better judgement, she called the spiller a jerk.  
Getting off the bus was difficult, as she had to crouch to stop her wings hitting the roof of the bus, and the people behind her pushed for her to move faster. It made her feel odd, disproportionate, and so freakishly huge.  
The feeling disappeared as she stepped through the gates of Bretsmith High School. One of those public places, it lacked in glamour, but there were several oak trees, huge majestic things placed around the main school buildings that lent an air of poshness to the place from afar. A closer inspection would reveal graffiti, burnt patches and one was dying slowly, ringbarked by some cruel kid without respect for the age of them.  
"Luna! Luna!" Christa joined Luna outside the doors to the main hall of Bretsmith. She was a well liked girl, since her own nature of gentle joking meant that labels and nastiness slipped off her - "as if I was made of Teflon!" she had once joked, flashing a smile that showed off crooked, but beautifully white teeth.  
Luna's mood took on a brighter outlook, even after the bus incident, which had hit an incredible tender spot in her. Christa's bubbliness was infectious. "Hey there." By now, they had reached the lockers, and Luna was rummaging around in hers for her history books. Christa's was several lockers down, and they simply continued the conversation over the head of a guy who, apparently, had chemistry first period, of the books he was unloading meant anything.  
"How was your weekend?" Christa had no concern, it was just a general question, one asked out of politeness and so she could - "How is Rico?" There we go. Christa had had a thing for Rico ever since she hit puberty, and sometimes Luna found it to be tiring.  
"My weekend was same old, same old," Luna slammed her locker shut in sync with Christa. Amazing, she thought dully. _Man, it's still morning and I'm already tired!_ "Rico got called in to work Sunday. It was a pity, we were going to go to the Artery yesterday..." What a gruesome name! But the Artery was a beautiful river, full of fascinating things and so peaceful, even if it was framed by the industrial area of the city, which made the water toxic.  
"He's in tech support, right?" Christa asked, even though she knew. Her gym bag was slung over a bony shoulder with an air of nonchalance, but Luna had a feeling she was fizzing inside at the mention of her brother's name.  
"Yes..." today, Luna was happy that the bell rang when it did, but not when she remembered she had a double of history, then math, and to top it off, English. Monday-itis only got worse.

_-x-_

Home. Home was a strange place for Luna. Just her, Rico and Nick, she often felt estranged in her own house, a feminine presence drowned out by a jocular animal and a despondent priest. She hesitated at the door, wondering if maybe she should go offer to walk Merlin, old Mr. Miller's beagle down the road before she went home. A chance to clear her head._No ... Nick will worry ... _  
"I'm home!" her voice would not echo in the house, no matter how loud she yelled. Nick made a noise in response. It came from the kitchen, where Nick was making pasta. The scent of Italian herbs made Luna think of puttanesca sauce.  
Stirring with one hand, and one of his textbooks on an unused spot on the granite bench top, Nick was clearly multitasking while he waited for Rico to get home, not that he would help. Luna had never understood why he was so tired all the time, wasn't tech support just sitting at a desk and picking up the phone? Luna dismissed the thought and stirred the sauce, which, was indeed Nick's own spin on puttanesca, and smelled wonderful.  
"Thankyou," he said quietly. There it was, the soft voice that made Luna think of some stoic being, enduring some heavy burden in silence. She made no comment as the front door slammed. The sound of Rico throwing down his stuff in the hall and making his way upstairs to sleep.  
When the pasta was done, Luna took a bowl of Nick's creation upstairs. It smelled wonderful, and she knew Nick would be setting two places at the kitchen table so they could eat together. Part of her was uncomfortable with it, since he was so quiet, and often reading while eating, but it seemed to relax him, so she would come down, and sit with him while he quizzed himself on some subject or another.  
The tinkling sound of glass from the kitchen stopped Luna on the foot of the stairs. _Has Nick broken a glass...?_ Her thought was cut short as a sharp pain cracked over her right ear, and a wave of darkness seemed to smash into her with the force of a battering ram.


	2. AN1

**Author's Notes**

Given I have not read "Maximum Ride", I am unable to comment on if the original author (silverAngel1234), is completley raping the beings from the original series, but I already know, given I tend to have a scathing approach to the entire "angel" (human/avian) mix, I have probably raped them in my own way. The books look like pretty average tween stuff, so no, I will not read them (juuuuust ignoring the fact that my local library will probably lack them and I do not want to order them in). So, I'll focus on stuff that has little to do with canon.

Firstly, and I am rather reluctant to mention this, is the word count. Miss Angel up there writes each chapter as >500 words, which gave me practically nothing to work with - the reason why there are two chapters in one of mine, and, in turn, provides so little fodder for a reader to base their own interpretation of a story. Her first chapter was basically a poorly witten paragraph and a couple of bios. NEVER, EVER write a bio into a story unless, like another user who commented in Miss Angel's chapter, its from a file or records kept on a character. It's like the lowest form of information dumping, and in her case, only touched on personalities.

I try to give more about a character away by implication rather then straightforward telling, and even in the previous chapter(s) I rewrote, I feel that I am still giving a reader a tough time using their own imagination to view the characters. I get it, your character is your baby, but its best not to information dump. For me, I get patronised if everything is served up to me as if i am eight and need people to draw a picture for me.

The characters themselves are clearly modeled off MA's family and nothing but a sickening shameless self insertion - sorry about the alliteration. As much as you want to model your character off an idealised self - no! Just, no. Its a self indulgent way to write and will not get you anywhere (*off to side* what about Twilight? Me: *smack* don't even put that bullsh!t next to real novels!). I can think of a tonne of other wonderful examples of self insertions that have been cut down well before I even bothered with - My Immortal being the best of them. Certianly, in cases like this one, she appears to have an expectation we will already know her self insertion's characters fairly well, and misses the entire point of character buildup.

This one is not just a personal gripe: never, EVER stereotype your character with an outright "Im an angsty outcast" or "Im so popular I ... [something]". In MA's story, she decides that her character is an outcast - which may well be, given that she is a mutant, but this is really best left as an implication. One thing I have noticed is that outsiders tend to be outsiders to everyone ... even other outsiders ... and have no friends, at all.

Ranted enough for my first AN. 


End file.
